An Ill Wound Is Cured, Not An

Take Heed Of Foul Dirty Wayes, And Long Sicknesse.

Two Ill Meales Make The Third A Glutton.

We Do It Soon Enough, If That We Do Be Well.

The Death Of A Young Wolfe Doth Never Come Too Soon.

Reason Lies Betweene The Spurre And The Bridle. [reason Lies Between The Spur And The Bridle.]